Unexpected
by Angel Monroe
Summary: It wasn’t at all what she expected. My take after "Chair Model." Spoilers through CM. Jam all the way.


_A/N: Alright, here's my take after last week's episode (because after an episode like that, everyone has to have some kind of take). Spoilers through Chair Model. Reviews are my pixie stix, and heaven knows I need some this week, so please give a girl some love. O:-)_

**Unexpected**  
by Angel Monroe

It wasn't at all what she expected. She wasn't sure what she had expected, really, because his spontaneity was one of the things she loved about him, but when he finally did pop the question, it certainly wasn't what she'd imagined.

The first time he'd brought up getting engaged—or maybe she had—he had warned her that it was coming—that it would kick her ass. She hadn't really believed him, especially after the stunt he'd pulled on the way to the parking lot, kneeling down to tie his shoe and scaring the crap out of her. Since then she had given it a lot of thought but hadn't really expected anything.

Roy had popped the question over drumsticks when she told him she was late, and then when her period had come three days later, he'd just shrugged and said it didn't matter. He'd marry her anyway. It had seemed romantic at the time.

But Jim…he was a different kind of romantic. She could imagine a candlelit dinner or a weekend away. He wouldn't do anything embarrassingly public, but she expected it to be tender and cheesy and perfect just like him.

She wasn't sure that she was ready to be engaged again. Three years had left her more than a little hesitant about the entire institution, and though she knew one man was nothing like the other, the idea of another long engagement seemed like a fate worse than death. She was haunted by frequent dreams of Michael handing her another Dundie just before the Chili's staff escorted her off the premises. It wasn't pretty. Every time Jim brought up plans to go out, she felt a case of hives coming on.

But when he finally asked, it was nothing like she'd expected. It was in the middle of a work day, and she'd been completely exasperated because Michael was checking out personal ads instead of signing performance reviews as he should have been. She had gotten so tired of his purposeful obliviousness that she'd taken a Sharpie into the bathroom and spent three minutes writing indecent things about him underneath her previous graffiti. Once she thought she could actually see him without quitting her job, she straightened her skirt, opened the door, and ran straight into the chest of her smirking boyfriend.

"What did you write?" he whispered in her ear, and she felt her cheeks get warm. How could he possibly know these things?

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She felt his hand on her hip, his mouth still brushing against her ear, and she closed her eyes to the feeling of his breath on her neck. "You forget," he said softly, intimately, "how little else I have to do around here besides watching you."

One finger dipped beneath the waistband of her skirt and then withdrew, and the loss of contact was just about unbearable.

"Well, Miss Beasly, look what we have here." She leaned back to look, only to find him twirling her black Sharpie marker between his fingers.

She laughed, tucking her head into his shoulder tiredly and hoping against hope that Michael would magically be sane by the time she lifted it again.

"Hmm. I was thinking August 15th."

She looked up at him again, confused. "What?"

He did that funny thing where he pretended to be surprised. "Oh, I thought you asked when the wedding should be."

She just stared at him a moment, perplexed. It took her more than five full seconds to realize whose wedding he was talking about, and then it took another five seconds to figure out how she felt about it. So when her eyes cleared after that ten long seconds, she was amused to see that his face looked more than a little pale.

"Huh," she said finally, a slow smile spreading over her face. "Yeah, August 15th sounds about right."


End file.
